hands as I made my way to the front of the truck.
“Padma!” cried Bloombeck, holding his arms aloft, like he expected a hug.
I grabbed his wrist and spun him away to an empty stoop. “Hey, everyone, let’s not stop a working man here!” I yelled, pointing to the truck. “Time is compost and compost is money and” –I got in Bloombeck’s face–“I am going to feed you to the squid. What are you doing?”
Bloombeck’s face fell. “You don’t like it? I thought you’d like it.”
“Like what?” I said. “A mob? How’d you even get this many people to talk to you?”
“You’re upset?” he said. “I figured this was good news, the kind of thing that’d make your rep even better.”
“I need you helping my reputation like I need a nail in my skull,” I said. “It’s not your place to go sticking your nose in my business.”
“Yeah, but this is everyone’s business,” said Bloombeck. “You’d got forty Breaches, and a whole bunch of people could move up and–”
I looked back at the signs, then saw who was holding them. There was Gene Snout, a sonic landscaper who’d Breached eight months ago and now worked as a cargo checker on the lifter depot. There was Vimi Van, who’d managed the road crew in Thronehill for the past year; she wanted to open a butcher shop. And every other bright, hopeful face was someone I’d recruited, slotted into some shitty Contract job, and left until I could find their replacements.
I turned back to Bloombeck. “You son of a bitch, you blabbed. You blabbed to everyone, after I told you not to, after we made a deal –”
“–which I kept up–”
“–except you didn’t , because you blabbed !” I yelled, blinking up the contract I’d just signed a few hours ago. I scanned the whole thing, then grinned as I hit the magic clause. “Section seventeen, paragraph eight, clause six, sub-clause two: ‘All parties shall keep this agreement in confidence. Any breach of this confidence renders the contract null and void.’” I slapped Bloombeck on the head. “Deal’s off, Bloomie. Find someone else to buy your scam farm.”
I turned back to the sidewalk and got two steps before he grabbed my jacket sleeve. “But–”
“But what?” I said, spinning around and flipping his hand away. “But I should help you, even though you broke our agreement? But I owe you, because we go back a long way? But, no, Padma, you’re completely right and I’ll leave you alone because I know anything I say won’t hold up in court?”
“But... you already paid for this,” he said.
I felt a bubble in my stomach. “Paid for what ?”
He waved his hands toward the crowd. “This! I mean, yeah, you didn’t pay for it, but I told everyone you would, because, you know, you’re going to make your number and all. And I figured, since we’re in business–”
I grabbed him by his greasy lapels. “We are nothing but null and goddamn void.”
“Well, now , yeah, I see that,” he said. “But I made the arrangements, people to fill the crowd, the sign makers, the band–”
“Band?”
There was a burst of horns, and the crowd cheered and parted as the Brushhead Memorial Band fired up “For She’s a Bloody Great Union.” Within two bars, everyone swayed and danced as the band strutted down the middle of the street, all dressed in their red-and-gray jackets and white pants. The woodwinds circled, the brass and drums following, and then they set up right in front of Papa Wemba’s truck, which still hadn’t been able to move.
I looked down at Bloomie, who tried to give me a smile. “You got them to put on their uniforms ?” I said.
“Well, it’s a special occasion, so–”
“Do you have any idea how much this will all cost ?”
“Eight hundred sixty-five yuan,” said Bloombeck. “It would’ve been an even grand, but I talked the band down when I told ’em it was for you.”
In the back of my head, I could hear the crowd singing along with the band
“Padma!” cried Bloombeck, holding his arms aloft, like he expected a hug.
I grabbed his wrist and spun him away to an empty stoop. “Hey, everyone, let’s not stop a working man here!” I yelled, pointing to the truck. “Time is compost and compost is money and” –I got in Bloombeck’s face–“I am going to feed you to the squid. What are you doing?”
Bloombeck’s face fell. “You don’t like it? I thought you’d like it.”
“Like what?” I said. “A mob? How’d you even get this many people to talk to you?”
“You’re upset?” he said. “I figured this was good news, the kind of thing that’d make your rep even better.”
“I need you helping my reputation like I need a nail in my skull,” I said. “It’s not your place to go sticking your nose in my business.”
“Yeah, but this is everyone’s business,” said Bloombeck. “You’d got forty Breaches, and a whole bunch of people could move up and–”
I looked back at the signs, then saw who was holding them. There was Gene Snout, a sonic landscaper who’d Breached eight months ago and now worked as a cargo checker on the lifter depot. There was Vimi Van, who’d managed the road crew in Thronehill for the past year; she wanted to open a butcher shop. And every other bright, hopeful face was someone I’d recruited, slotted into some shitty Contract job, and left until I could find their replacements.
I turned back to Bloombeck. “You son of a bitch, you blabbed. You blabbed to everyone, after I told you not to, after we made a deal –”
“–which I kept up–”
“–except you didn’t , because you blabbed !” I yelled, blinking up the contract I’d just signed a few hours ago. I scanned the whole thing, then grinned as I hit the magic clause. “Section seventeen, paragraph eight, clause six, sub-clause two: ‘All parties shall keep this agreement in confidence. Any breach of this confidence renders the contract null and void.’” I slapped Bloombeck on the head. “Deal’s off, Bloomie. Find someone else to buy your scam farm.”
I turned back to the sidewalk and got two steps before he grabbed my jacket sleeve. “But–”
“But what?” I said, spinning around and flipping his hand away. “But I should help you, even though you broke our agreement? But I owe you, because we go back a long way? But, no, Padma, you’re completely right and I’ll leave you alone because I know anything I say won’t hold up in court?”
“But... you already paid for this,” he said.
I felt a bubble in my stomach. “Paid for what ?”
He waved his hands toward the crowd. “This! I mean, yeah, you didn’t pay for it, but I told everyone you would, because, you know, you’re going to make your number and all. And I figured, since we’re in business–”
I grabbed him by his greasy lapels. “We are nothing but null and goddamn void.”
“Well, now , yeah, I see that,” he said. “But I made the arrangements, people to fill the crowd, the sign makers, the band–”
“Band?”
There was a burst of horns, and the crowd cheered and parted as the Brushhead Memorial Band fired up “For She’s a Bloody Great Union.” Within two bars, everyone swayed and danced as the band strutted down the middle of the street, all dressed in their red-and-gray jackets and white pants. The woodwinds circled, the brass and drums following, and then they set up right in front of Papa Wemba’s truck, which still hadn’t been able to move.
I looked down at Bloomie, who tried to give me a smile. “You got them to put on their uniforms ?” I said.
“Well, it’s a special occasion, so–”
“Do you have any idea how much this will all cost ?”
“Eight hundred sixty-five yuan,” said Bloombeck. “It would’ve been an even grand, but I talked the band down when I told ’em it was for you.”
In the back of my head, I could hear the crowd singing along with the band
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